


Here

by Phantom



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Character Death Fix, F/F, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom/pseuds/Phantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka understands now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophiahelix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/gifts).



> Thank you, sophiahelix, for giving me the opportunity to explore these two wonderful ladies some more. <3

"I understand." The words bubble out of her. She knows she shouldn't have (she should let it lie in peace because she thinks there is no real need to speak of it now, not after everything that's happened between them since) but as the words spill over she feels something inside of her come to rest. "I understand, Helena."

"What's that?" Helena turns onto her back, one arm curled lazily over her head. Her hair is mussed and eyes dark and shuttered. "You look far too serious, darling."

Despite herself, Myka smiles. She sobers again even as she drags a fingernail against Helena's naked arm and feels the tremble that runs through her. God, she loves her.

"I know why you—why you did what you did." She stumbles ungracefully over her words, but it is too late now to stop for awkwardness. "With the Minoan Trident."

"Ah," Helena says, and after that she is silent for far too long.

Myka waits for her. She is silent, too, and still but for that finger stroking its way up and down and back and forth across Helena's soft, smooth skin.

"Well," Helena murmurs finally. She presses her lips together, but she wears that unreadable expression that made her such an excellent liar. "Do go on, then."

So Myka does.

She draws in a deep breath as though it will enough to give her armor, and then she speaks of that day. For the first time, almost—they've made vague references to it but skirted around discussing it outright. Certainly they've never sat down for Myka to tell what it was to watch Helena die, and for Helena to say what it was to die. She's not even sure how much Helena remembers.

But now... now Myka exhales, and speaks. She speaks of the moments where there was nothing to the world but a sea of endless light she could not close her eyes against though it was far too bright to bear.  
Helena's shield had held around them but the intense heat and the roar of the fire as it blazed and swirled around her had swallowed her whole.

And she had stood as a stone yet not a stone because to the core of her she felt only that indescribable yet not unfamiliar grief that stole her tears away. She had been able to cradle Sam after his life, so hard for her to cling to, had left them. But Helena was gone, nothing left of her for Myka to hold on to but the locket. She'd clutched that until its shape had been pressed into her palm and her fingers had gone white and numb.

And then, there had been nothing but ashes.

"Oh, love," Helena whispers, and Myka realizes then that she is finally crying. Tears run slowly and silently down her face and Helena brushes them away with the back of her thumb. "I only wanted to save you."

"I know." Myka swallows hard. "I know you did, but I—you were gone and I was so angry."

Those long, terrible minutes before it had been made right again she had been too full of hurt to think of anything besides causing hurt in return. Walter Sykes was dead, but oh, if he hadn't been—she had wanted to resurrect him just to kill him again and again, for Helena and for Steve and for that heart-wrenching scream Claudia's had made when she'd found him.

And if she couldn't do that, then she wanted to just rage and rage without a cause, anything to distract from the hurt.

"Yes," Helena says slowly. She hasn't moved but to close her eyes, but she is stiff now. Myka draws the blankets higher over them both. "It was something like that."

"I—" She swallows again, and sniffs back more tears. "I wasn't me, Helena. I've never felt like that before."

"I do apologize for that," Helena says. She rolls closer and wraps both her arms around Myka and everything becomes just a little bit more okay. "I would never have wanted you to become as I had been."

Myka nods but she cannot speak around the tightness of her throat, and Helena continues after a deep breath of her own. "I was so... lost. I had hoped, you know, that some time away from the world would do me good, but instead I had such a long time for the anger and the hurt to fester and grow and by the time I was unbronzed it was all I could think of."

She remembers Helena on the steps in Warehouse Two, crying for her lost Christina. The grief had been real in the way the illusion of her had not.

"It is rather poetic, I think," Helena adds, "that here where I lost myself is where I was found again." She smiles again, just a little bit but it is enough. "I believe I have you to thank for that."

Myka feels herself smile in answer. "Oh, really?"

"Mmm."

She's forgiven Helena now. She thought she had, before, but the lingering wounds of that betrayal had still hurt. More a dull throb that she thought of from time to time than the sharp twisting pain it had first been, but... that Helena would have been willing to end the world with her, with all of them, in it, that had hurt (that she hadn't only helped some).

She likes to tell herself that she wouldn't have been like Helena. She wouldn't have been so ready to plunge the trident into the ground all three times and end the whole world. She would have been different, more focused, more... selecting in her anger.

But she knows, too, that even the best warehouse agents come to bad endings, and she knows how easy it is to lose your way in the dark when the light has gone. Another candle had been lit when Artie pulled out that stopwatch and she had stumbled back onto the right path before she left it. But in another life, where they were all dead and gone and she had no one to show her the way home it would have been so easy to lose herself.

It is the lingering thoughts of what would have been and the knowing of what is now, that have led her here to this moment in this place that has become home.


End file.
